


Forgotten

by Souliebird



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Batdad, Child Neglect, Comfort, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:26:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Souliebird/pseuds/Souliebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't think he had any parental instinct, he was almost hopeless at times with Dick, but if he squinted, with his big blue eyes and mop of black hair, Timothy could almost pass for his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten

Bruce sighed heavily, running a hand over his face as the last of the guests drove off the Manor grounds. He never would have guessed, years and years ago, he would have rather been out dodging bullets than hosting a charity event, but there he was. He leaned against the heavy wooden doors of his home for just a moment before pushing off and turning to head down to the Cave. 

“I'm going to check on Dick, Alfred.” He called out, knowing the man could hear him. 

“Very well, sir.” Alfred responded somewhere from his left. Bruce shook his head fondly. The mess the guests had made was rather minimal, but Bruce knew better than to offer to help clean it up. He'd just get in the way and ruin whatever brilliant system Alfred had in place. 

As he descended down into the Cave, Bruce couldn't help but be a little jealous of Dick. He still wasn't exactly sure how he had gotten roped into hosting that year's fundraiser for the children's hospital, but he had, and at his home no less. Dick had laughed at the irony that the event was for children, but no one under eighteen had been allowed to attend, which had left Dick with no where to go but out. 

Bruce was a little worried, though he knew Dick could handle himself. Robin going out on his own was still a new thing and it made Bruce uneasy. They had done solo patrols before, but Bruce had still been in the city with Dick. It was true most of the larger threats were locked away, but he would always worry about his ward.

But of course, Dick was perfectly fine. As soon as Bruce put on his headset, the young teen crooned in his ear about his night's activities, teasing Bruce about having been stuck at the party all night. An hour passed and Dick was easily lead into coming back into the Cave, his adrenaline still high by the time he arrived. 

Dick was still bouncing, laughing, and cartwheeling as Bruce sent him up to bed, knowing as soon as the boy hit the pillow he would be out like a light. Bruce kept an almost smile on his face as he finished his work for the night. After he closed the file, he checked the time, figuring if he headed up to sleep now he could fit in maybe an hour or two of sleep before having to get up to go to work. There was some sort of meeting or something that Lucius was very insistent he had to be there for.

The Manor was silent when Bruce entered it and he had the somewhat childish need to go explore that lack of noise. But he knew better and instead forced his feet to carry him to his bedroom. 

Bruce pushed open his door, then stopped and stared at the sight of a small child curled up on his bed. He took a hesitant step forward, not knowing how a child had gotten into the Manor, let alone his room. Bruce peered down at the small frame when he got close enough. The boy was smaller than the pillow he was using and he had half of the blanket Bruce kept at the end of his bed draped over him. The boy was dressed in a perfectly tailored little party suit, but his dress shoes had been left just by the bed. He must have taken them off before climbing up. 

The boy looked so peaceful in his sleep that Bruce felt immense guilt as he reached down to lightly shake the boy's shoulder. 

“Wake up, son...” 

The child stirred, then sat up, blinking wide bright blue eyes at Bruce. He didn't look frightened at all as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

Bruce knelt down beside the bed, attempting to be at eye level with the boy and seem less frightening. The child was so small that Bruce could not even guess his age.

“Hi. I'm Bruce. What is your name?” The boy said nothing, just blinked sleepily at Bruce, then tugged the blanket up around his shoulders and snuggled into it. “How did you get here?” 

Bruce sighed after a minute when the boy did nothing but stare at him, then pushed himself back into standing. He turned to go get Alfred, thinking the man would be better suited for trying to figure out who this child was, when a tiny strained noise came from behind him. He turned again to see panic in the child's eyes, and though Bruce didn't have the most parental nature, he couldn't help but be protective.

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked and the boy immediately nodded. When the boy made no movement to get off the bed, Bruce scooped him up, blanket and all. The boy struggled for a moment, but before Bruce could put him back down, the boy clung tightly, but a little awkwardly to Bruce, his little fists curled into Bruce's shirt. 

As they walked, the little boy rested his head on Bruce's shoulder, clearly still sleepy, and Bruce rubbed soothingly at his back. He couldn't help but wonder if this was some sort of trap, that someone had found out who he was behind his cowl and the child was part of some plan to harm him. Then the boy yawned and pressed his face into Bruce's neck and he dismissed the thought. 

Alfred opened his bedroom door before Bruce could knock, most likely having heard his footsteps. He raised his brows at the sight of Bruce holding a child, then sighed, as if finding random children in the Manor happened on a regular basis.

“He was asleep in my bed.” Bruce explained, moving the blanket slightly to show the tuxedo the boy was wearing. “He won't talk to me.” Alfred gave Bruce an amused look as he jostled the boy a bit, rousing him from his sleep again. “This is Alfred.” 

The boy blinked at Alfred, his little head tucked under Bruce's chin. He licked his lips, then spoke in a voice as small as he was. “I saws you at the party.” 

Alfred smiled, looking much more inviting than Bruce ever would, and held out a hand for the boy to shake. “Yes, I was there. What is your name, my boy?”

The little boy squirmed in Bruce's hold and leaned so far forward to grab and shake Alfred's hand that Bruce had to tighten his grip on him so he wouldn't fall. “I'm Timothy!” 

“It is very nice to meet you, Timothy.” The boy gave a bright sleepy smile, then curled himself back into Bruce, plopping his head against the man's shoulder like he belonged there. Alfred raised a brow as Bruce adjusted the blanket to once again cover to small child. “Did you come to the party with your mother and father?”

Timothy nodded and gave another little yawn. 

“Why didn't you stay with them?” Alfred asked gently. 

The little boy frowned and tugged the blanket tighter around himself, then spoke, his voice quiet and soft again. “Mother said I wasn't 'posed to come, but Nanny is sicky. Father said I wasn't big enoughs to stay home alone, so I had to come and Mother told me to sit and waits but I got sleepy so I laid down instead of sitting.” Timothy took a breath, then pouted even more. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, no, not at all, my boy. You did exactly what you were supposed to. You look like you could do with some warm milk and cookies. Would you like that?” Timothy nodded and Alfred smiled. “That's a good lad.” 

Bruce followed Alfred down to the kitchen, having an entire silent conversation over Timothy's head. Who could bring their child somewhere, send them away, then forget about said child? It made Bruce furious and he knew that when Timothy's parents came to pick him up, he'd be having more than a few words with them. He just had to figure out who they were first, which would be easy enough. There were cameras all over the Manor and he would just need to find who Timothy had come to the party with. 

Bruce attempted to put the boy down once they were in the kitchen, but Timothy's little fingers curled tightly into Bruce's dress shirt, refusing to let go. Bruce understood, but he didn't. Timothy hadn't said one word to Bruce since he had found him, but the little boy was terrified of Bruce leaving him, which was a tad bit confusing. Bruce didn't mind sitting down at the counter and holding the half asleep child in his lap; the toddler was so sweet and innocent, Bruce couldn't imagine the type of people who would have just forgotten about him. 

Bruce bounced Timothy idly on his lap as Alfred heated up some milk for him. He was more than a little concerned at how the child was falling asleep again, instead of being scared or upset. He hadn't once asked where his parents were, and it made Bruce's heart hurt. Was he left so often he knew it was pointless? 

Alfred placed two mugs and a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of Bruce with a smile. 

“Here you go, Timothy..” Bruce whispered, taking one of the mugs and holding it in front of the boy. Timothy took the mug in both hands, still leaning heavily against the man's chest, and sipped at it slowly. Alfred shook his head at the sight, like he was amused, then left the room, to presumably check the footage since it was obvious Bruce could not. 

He helped Timothy hold the mug as he finished its contents, then resumed slowly bouncing him, smiling a little when the boy clutched back onto his shirt. Dick was far too big to treat like this, and though he was still very childish at times, he resented being treated like a child. Dick was his ward, his partner, and not his son, but, for a moment, looking down at Timothy as he drifted asleep, Bruce wondered how he would be as a father. He didn't think he had any parental instinct, he was almost hopeless at times with Dick, but if he squinted, with his big blue eyes and mop of black hair, Timothy could almost pass for his son. 

Bruce didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the sleeping boy in his lap and lost in his own thoughts. 

Alfred cleared his throat softly after what felt like no time at all and Bruce looked up at him, frowning at the small hints of anger on his friend's face. 

“It appears Master Timothy is the son of Mister and Missus Jack and Janet Drake. I took the liberty of calling the household to inform them of the whereabouts of their missing child.” Alfred scowled. “Upon no one picking up, I called the front desk of the apartment building they reside in. I was delightfully informed that the Drake's had left for Paris upon returning from the party. The nightwatchman helpfully provided the contact information of Master Timothy's nanny and she will be along shortly to pick him up.”

It was Bruce's turn to frown and he tightened his grip on Timothy just slightly. The boy squirmed against him, then gave a soft content sigh.

“They left overseas without their son?” The anger clear in his voice.

“Mrs. Mac, Timothy's nanny, stated that Mister and Mrs. Drake were supposed to drop Master Timothy off at her home before departing, which is something they had never done before. They are, according to her, very set in patterns and probably forgot that she did not already have the boy.”

“That is not an excuse.” Bruce said, maybe a little too loudly, as Timothy groaned softly. Bruce adjusted the blankets again, then frowned up to Alfred. “That is not an excuse.”

“I am aware, sir.” Alfred replied, his own voice dripping with something close to anger. “But unfortunately for us and the boy, we have no say over how he is raised.” 

Bruce pursed his lips and said nothing. He wanted to intervene, do something, give the boy the attention he deserved, but he knew it was out of his hands. Timothy had has parents, had a nanny who watched over him, and Bruce knew he did not know the full details. It was not his place; Timothy was not his son. 

So he held onto the boy and rocked him as he slept for the thirty six minutes it took for Mrs. Mac to arrive to the Manor. She apologized profusely on behalf of the Drake's, for both having to bring Timothy to the event in the first place and for leaving without him. When it came time for Bruce to finally hand over the boy, something he was rather reluctant to do, Timothy once again refused to be put down. The nanny had to pry his tiny fingers from Bruce's shirt, chastising him in a language Bruce wasn't familiar with, and he almost began to cry when she began to unwrap him from the blanket. 

“No, no, it is alright. He can keep it.” Bruce insisted until Mrs. Mac frowned and wrapped Timothy back up. She held the toddler by the hand in an iron grip as they said their good byes and Timothy stared up at Bruce with wide eyes, still not saying a word to him. He did offer a tiny little wave when they turned to leave and Bruce returned it. He watched with a sad smile as Timothy Drake walked down his driveway, wearing the black blanket around his shoulders like a cape. 

Bruce guessed he would not be able to get the hour of sleep he had planned after he closed the door and made his way back down to the Cave, deciding as he walked that he would remember the name Timothy Drake and be sure to try to check up on the boy every now and again, whether as Bruce Wayne, or as Batman.

~*~

“Alfred!” Bruce called out as he slammed his closet door shut. “Alfred! Did you take my riding boots for polishing? I can't seem to find them!” 

“No, sir.” Alfred responded from somewhere out in the hall, looking for Bruce's crop. “But I do believe those were the boots Master Jason wore for his lessons. Perhaps you should check under your bed. He does have a tendency to leave things there.”

“That boy is growing like a weed.” Bruce muttered to himself as he dropped down to his knees. “Aha...” He hummed as he saw the familiar shine of a shoe under his large bed. He reached, stretching until his finger just barely brushed the lace of the shoe, and yanked it out. He frowned at his find, holding up the child's dress shoe in front of him and examining the thing that was smaller than the palm of his hand. He had no idea how it had gotten there, but something tickled at the back of his mind, a memory, a name, but …

“I found them, sir!” Alfred called again, closer to the bedroom. “They were in the hall closet with your other riding gear!” 

“Thank you, Alfred!” Bruce said as he tossed the shoe back under his bed, telling himself to have a talk with Jason about putting things back where he found them when he next saw his son.


End file.
